Miracle

My wife and I have been praying for over 3 years that the Lord would bless us with a family. Various health complications kept us from being able to get pregnant, and our doctors have been saying that it wouldn't happen without the aid of a miracle drug. Not that there's anything wrong with medicine (and given enough time, we may have considered those alternatives) but something about calling a drug a "miracle" doesn't sit right with me. We chose instead to wait and pray.

Today we're six weeks and five days pregnant. We got the ultrasound done yesterday. The picture above is a baby in the sixth week of development. I didn't have the ability to scan our actual ultrasound picture, so I ripped this one off google images, but it's almost identical to the picture we have on the fridge of our own little less-than-one-centimeter baby. The amazing thing is that even at this early stage, we could clearly see (with the doctor's pointing finger) the little guy's heartbeat (or, maybe girl's heartbeat).

The miracle we want to point to at the end of these seasons of drought isn't a breakthrough in medicine, it's the One who gives and takes away. If our lives, our getting pregnant or not getting pregnant, can somehow point to the real Miracle Maker, then we'll stand in awe of Him and be satisfied.

Medicine's great... but... this is a true miracle.

Evolution is Evolving

Not so long ago, brilliant physicists, mathematicians, astronomers, and biologists were discovering some of the most critical scientific laws of the natural world: universal gravitation, the laws of thermodynamics, planetary motion, and taxonomy- and none of them professed a faith in evolution. In fact, many of them believed in the Creator God of the Bible: Kepler (planetary motion), Pascal (mathematics), Boyle (chemistry), Newton (physics), and Linnaeus (biological taxonomy). Evolution took off just a little over 100 years ago, but these men in the 16/1700's were clearly not at a disadvantage, nor are any of their theories or laws any less relevant today because of the development of this relatively-new faith.

And faith is really what evolution boils down to. A scientific "theory" by definition is something that makes a grand prediction based on evidence that has been tested, repeated, and observed. Despite what evolutionists want you to believe (again, a key word), their own "scientific theory" is far from meeting these most basic scientific requirements. Furthermore, when evolution is used to explain not just the biological world but the big three questions of life (How did I get here? Why am I here? Where am I going?)- particularly these last two- then it is no longer operating in the realm of science but of philosophy. And that's a problem for a lot of really significant reasons.

First of all, that's not what science was ever meant to do. That science is now casting predictions and theories beyond the realm of nature will have dire consequences in the near future (did I just use the word "dire"?). Observing the chemical makeup of a star is one thing; telling us that because the star is 10 billion light years away, we see it, therefore the universe is at least 10 billion years old, therefore the Bible is false, therefore there is no God, therefore... well that's quite a different system from science altogether.

Second, the idea that evolution should explain belief is a contradiction in terms. You don't explain beliefs; that's what makes them beliefs. I can give you astounding evidence for the Creator God of the Bible, but I don't expect that will make you believe (as telling as the evidence is). Belief is not a realm of understanding; it's a matter of faith.

While there's a lot more to say, as I've been trying to sort through this issue lately, the bottom line seems to be this: evolution is not a theory, it's an alternate faith- a faith in a world without God. The faith of evolution gives naturalists (again, a philosophy) a "way out" from the God problem ("God delusion," as leading atheist/evolutionist Richard Dawkins called it). Dawkins is famously quoted saying, "Darwin made it possible to be an intellectually fulfilled atheist." In other words, science has found a way to explain- intellectually- all the things that centuries of brilliant men (i.e. Newton, Pascal) understood to be acts of a Divine Intellect in a great, foreseeing Creator. In his book, The Blind Watchmaker, he says, "Nearly all peoples have developed their own creation myth, and the Genesis story is just the one that happened to have been adopted by one particular tribe of Middle Eastern herders... Modern theologians of any sophistication have given up believing in instantaneous creation... The one thing that makes evolution such a neat theory is that it explains how organized complexity can arise out of primeval simplicity." (Dawkins, 450-451)

Evolution is evolving from a scientific theory to an all-encompassing worldview that requires faith in evidences unseen... that sounds a lot like a religion to me, and considering the repercussions of that are a little bit scary.

Dr. Gage's Blog

I added a new blog to the sidebar that you might be interested in checking out.  It's a new website by Dr. Warren Gage, one of my professors at Knox.  

Hope Can Hurt

This was one of those perfect journaling mornings; when I wake up feeling a little melancholy, I get a dose of sunshine from a happy wife's happy greeting, I get in the car and hear the song I carefully cued last night to be the soundtrack for this morning's drive ("Your Love is Strong" by Jon Foreman), and I sing along with a bleary throat and with my tear-filled eyes fixed on the sunrise over my hood.  But, unfortunately, at that moment when I realized "this is a journal morning" it was too late- I had already left it at home.  So, if you don't mind the transparency, I need a journal this morning...

What I didn't tell you about my melancholy morning is that it began with a melancholy evening.  

My good friend (and yours) Dan just got engaged this past weekend to an absolute sweetheart.  Dan and his fiance were here in town last night to celebrate with family, so I was honored with a chance to see them for the first time in a while.  You know those friends who leave and then come back- when you're hanging out, it's like they never left.  Talking and laughing is just so... normal... and right.  Everything's back in place it seems, and for a while you forget what life was like missing him, if only for a couple hours at his engagement party.  

At one point I went to the restroom (don't worry, the rest of this sentence won't be so creepy) and had a sort of deja vu/reflective moment (okay, maybe that's creepy afterall).  But the point is that I closed the door to the restroom and suddenly remembered being 13, closing that very bathroom door for the first time.  The familiar loud creaks of the wood floors, the nostalgic smell of the house, and the voices of my "family" in the other room.  It's not my home.  But it felt like home to me.  

Returning to the party and seeing Dan there, I half expected to be returning to a game of Mario Cart or continuing the ongoing game, "Dan do the raptor!"  But the "grown up" Dan is laughing with his bride-to-be... and I couldn't be happier for him.  

As it came time to say goodnight, the happy forgetfulness of what life was like without him slowly began to drop like a smile.  As I made the rounds of hugs and handshakes and walked out to my car, I felt like a kid running away from home.  Like I had to make a purposeful choice to tear the normalcy from my own grip and leave it behind for the sake of the call forward.  I guess it's not that unlike ministry, or any area of calling; I want to feel safe like I'm home and never take another risk.  But God's not finished with Dan and Christina in CA yet- and he's not done teaching me perseverance yet either.  So, for the sake of that call forward, we said goodbye.

There's a certain hope in melancholy days.  I can't speak for others, but it always seems to rear its head in the midst of the happiest times, like my good friend Dan's visit home.  It's not sadness; it's painful hope for what's to come.  

Peculiar People

"But ye are a chosen generation, a royal priesthood, an holy nation, a peculiar people; that you should show forth the praises of Him who hath called you out of darkness and into His marvelous light." 1 Peter 2:9 (KJV)

The word "peculiar" here probably means, "set apart" or "particular" people- those who are God's own. But I find that our contemporary meaning rings true as well: God's people are peculiar; as in, "strange" and "unusual" people- especially when they're praising Him.

This is a topic close to my heart, and something I've wanted to write about for a while but haven't made the time. As a worship leader, I know perhaps better than many how "peculiar" God's Church can be when they "show forth [His] praises."

Every evangelical church that I've led worship in, no matter how big or small, how charismatic or traditional, how old or young- every church seems to have the same un-usual suspects:

• There's the stoic gentleman who usually sits off to one side (rarely in the center section, unless it's on the extreme aisle). His job is to examine everything that's done in the service through a theological or philosophical lens and ask "why" questions after the service.
• There's the pact of senior citizens who, bless their hearts, just want to see and hear something familiar. They sit together in the back (so the music won't hurt their ears) and center (so they can see the pastor).
  
• There's the high school student who was dragged out of bed five minutes before the service started. He and his family sit in the back and off to one side because they're usually late.
  
• There's the charismatic hand-raiser and somewhere behind him/her is the reluctant hand-raiser. The first chord hits and the charismatic's hands are in the air ready to praise God while the reluctant hand-raiser begins to break out into a cold sweat as he prepares to overcome his fear and raise his hands- a warm-up process that will take 2-3 songs.
  
• The girl who dreams of being a pop star and styles everything she sings with Mariah Carey trills and slides.
• The compulsive harmony-singer. Usually this is a girl, but I've known some guys too. They love harmonies so much they'll add them even when they don't belong.
  
• There's the defiant man or woman who disproves of "contemporary" music and so makes that known by crossing his/her arms, stares daggers at the leader, and refuses to sing. For some reason (to make a statement?), nine times out of ten this person sits front and center.
  
• There are the sing-loud-and-proud-even-though-I'm-tone-deaf people who are distributed equally throughout the room (and we love them for it).
  
• The weepy worshiper. This person wears his/her heart on their sleeve and sings through tears each and every Sunday, blotting his/her eyes during instrumental breaks.
  
• The opera-trained worshiper. They come in both male and female, but they could be a block away and still out-sing everyone else in the room (including the people on microphones). When there are hymnals involved, their eyes are glued to the page as they perfectly execute the four-part harmony written for them.
  
• There's the sincerely broken and hurting person who's just lost a loved one, has had a hard run in life, or is otherwise downcast. They cry in worship not because they're a weepy person, but because it's the first feeling of comfort, safety, and hope they've felt all week.
  
• There's the family with young kids who struggle to make it to church on time because of the mile-long "kid checklist" they had to accomplish on their way out the door (everyone's brushed, fed, wearing all items of clothing in the appropriate places, etc). Their singing is faint and tired because they feel like shipwreck survivors before church even begins.
  
• The junior high love birds, holding hands during church. They don't hear a thing all day... but they're there and sometimes their lips are moving to the lyrics.
  
• The sign language lady. This is sometimes a man, and almost always a charismatic congregation, but this non-deaf person worships with their hands, signing every word as they sing, much to the fascination of everyone within eye-shot.
  
• There's the gigging musician in the congregation who thinks about issues related to showmanship, sound engineering, and production during worship. He's the guy who sits halfway back and worships while he watches like a hawk every chord the leader plays on the guitar.
  
• There's the lovable but strange guy who is so awkward in worship that he often makes a scene during the music portion of the service (but those who know him don't even notice after a while). He has a deep love for the Lord and a big heart, just no self-awareness.
  
• There's the comatose worshiper (who is easily confused with the meditative worshiper, below) who looks like he's about 3 seconds away from death. He either doesn't sleep on Saturday nights or he has the personality of a wall. Tip for worship leaders: nothing you can say or do will shake this guy up, so it's best just to leave him alone.
• The meditative worshiper is the guy (or girl) who stands perfectly still with his eyes and mouth shut; he looks like he's asleep but you know his heart is meditating on the Lord by the occasional eyebrow furrow (he's thinking, not sleeping).
• The worship leaders in the room are basically a conglomeration of all of the above. Ironically, we're probably the worst people to have to lead in worship because we're aware of all of these things going on around us (which you can imagine makes it a little hard to focus).
  

Peculiar people is an understatement! Church is full of crazy people who express worship to God in such bizarre and diverse ways. It's a cacophony of sounds and personalities; a melting pot of expressions and style... but... it... is... beautiful.

I've tried to quit worship ministry twice in my life (the grass is greener; pride; tired of confrontation and other reasons typical to ministers). Both times the Lord gently broke my pride and called me back, but do you know what He used both times to bring me to that place of breaking?

Take a look:


That's 1,000 voices singing to God Almighty, in all of their peculiar ways, with all their quirks and craziness- brokenness and all- opera singers, harmony singers, tone deaf singers, and all the rest. God used that very sound- the sound of his children worshiping- to break me and affirm my calling to this ministry. It's beautiful. There's no other sound like it, and I pray I live and die with its echo in my ears.

Bon Iver

It's been a while since I've written a legitimate blog post. And there are at least a half dozen things I'm waiting for time to write about, but this one will be quick...

A new (at least to me) underground/indie artist caught my ear this morning. His name is Bon Iver. If you're a fan of mello acoustic guitar, raw, imperfect but soulful indie artists (perhaps in the Glen Hansard vein), Bon Iver might be your man. Check out the two songs on his myspace page: http://www.myspace.com/boniver
and see if you agree.

Steve Martin and Michael Caine co-star in this classic comedy about two con artists who schmooze wealthy and corrupt women in order to take them for all they're worth. Each have separately made a fine living off of stolen pearls, cars, and cash, but when both cons begin to prowl in the same French Riviera, fierce competition and hysterical comedy ensues.

The ever-so proper Lawrence Jamieson (Caine), is a master of con artistry. He has no time for chasing smaller victims; his eyes are roaming for extremely wealthy and wounded prey. When he finds such a woman, he plays on her compassions, telling her that he is a prince from an impoverished country and only- say $50,000- will save his people. In tears of sympathy, the woman gladly serves the greater good and helps his cause. Now $50,000 richer, Lawrence simply picks up and moves on to the next town.

Freddy Benson is in the same line of work, but is far less suave. He's more a hustler than an "artist." He's satisfied, for a while, with smaller game- a free dinner here, $20 there; but when chance leads him to the same wealthy town as Lawrence Jamieson and he sees the British con-artist making 10's of thousands of dollars, his appetite changes.

Knowing that Lawrence is the far superior con, Freddy asks him to be his mentor. Lawrence, unhappy with the new competition for his turf, decides to take Freddy under his wing with the secret ploy to drive Freddy away to greener pastures. "Perhaps," Lawrence thinks, "the best way to rid myself of this nuisance is to bring him closer." And so the training begins. Freddy learns to slick his hair back; to glide in his walk; to suavely tuck one hand in his coat pocket while the other hand raises a glass of champagne to the sapphire moon... And again, comedy ensues....

But sooner than later, it becomes clear to Freddy that Lawrence is taking advantage and not treating him with fairness. When working a "victim" together, Lawrence schmoozes the lady while Freddy is forced to play the mental monkey-brother, Ruprecht (see youtube clip on sidebar).







So, their feud will be resolved, the two decide, by a not-so-friendly competition: after agreeing on a woman, both will go to work trying to win her affections (and her wallet) while pretending not to know each other. Whoever gets her will be declared the winner. Freddy approaches their target as a paraplegic war vet who's grandmother is on her death bed and in need of surgery money. Lawrence, playing along, becomes the renowned German psychiatrist who alone can cure Freddy of his disorder, emphatically stating that Freddy's is a psychosomatic, not neurological, paralysis. So a battle of wits begins as the two cons try to out-con each other in order to win the prize.

(Warning: the next paragraph will spoil the movie for you if you haven't seen it and plan to)
After continually upping the stakes and nearly destroying each other, the two cons arrive separately at the same airport where the woman has fled. Both come with a different story about why the woman they've been chasing is now getting on a plane and about to take off. By the time the two cons realize that the woman they were chasing had been playing them from minute one, the plane was already in the air. She had spun them around to dizziness and proved to be the better con.

It's a great comedy with a surprising twist (well, now that I spoiled it, maybe not so much). But it's definitely a classic 80's movie in my book- well worth owning on DVD.